Meanwhile, the rest of the Illuminati were not idle.
Captain America, with his shield and his unwavering morale, was a symbol of hope, a beacon of defiance in the face of overwhelming odds. He led a team of heroes, a patchwork of powers and personalities, in the defense of Plymouth.
Naturally, he wasn't alone; he was, after all, only a super-soldier and unable to go toe-to-toe with the Sentinels.
Not that being outmatched had ever stopped him before.
And it certainly didn't stop him now.
"All right, team, you know the plan!" Steve shouted, his voice a clarion call that cut through the din of battle. "We hold the line. We don't let them past the city limits. We protect the people. No matter what."
His team mainly consisted of Charles Xavier's so-called X-Men. They might be young, but they were already veterans of many battles, including battles against the Sentinels.
Now, a few weeks after their hasty escape from their school, they had completely recovered and were itching for a rematch. Not for revenge, no, that was not their way, but to defend the innocent, to stand up for those who couldn't stand up for themselves.
Scott Summers, Cyclops, the usual leader of this team, didn't feel anything wrong with listening to Steve Rogers.
In some ways, it almost felt natural to follow his lead.
Had it been anyone else, there would no doubt have been some level of conflict over who should be in charge.
But with Steve? Captain America himself?
There was no such thing.
It might have been because everyone over in the States had grown up with the heroic tales of Captain America. What child hadn't read the comics or played with the toys?
Even Scott couldn't claim he wasn't a huge fan.
After all, Captain America was a symbol of justice, of doing what was right, of never giving up.
He was a hero in the truest sense of the word, and the X-Men, for all their power and experience, were still young, still learning, still figuring out their place in the world.
And in Steve Rogers, they saw a role model, a mentor, a guide.
He didn't just give them orders; he listened to them, he respected them, he treated them as equals. He understood their powers, their strengths, their weaknesses, and he knew how to use them to their full potential.
He was a natural leader, a born commander, and the X-Men, for all their internal squabbles and occasional disagreements, fell into line behind him with a natural, almost instinctive obedience.
"Jean, I know you want to take to the sky; flying is normally a big advantage, but it also makes you a target, so I need you to stay down, where you can take advantage of cover," Steve said, starting to lay out his plan.
He had been putting in a great deal of work over the past few weeks; he had fought countless times and knew the Sentinels as well as anyone.
Not just the raw data; no, he knew them in ways numbers and words could never teach.
Only slamming into them, only watching them fight and being slammed down by them, could teach you the things he knew.
And it was because of this that, despite his own weakness, he was still able to fight them.
Experience, instinct—these were things no machine could truly grasp.
"All right, but what do you want me to do? I can do more than just throw cars," Jean asked, not because she wanted to show off, but because she truly wanted to do as much as she could to help.
"I want you to limit their movements, to hold them in place, to move us out of the way when we can't dodge. This might seem less important than being a main attacker, but I assure you, it is countless times more important," Steve explained.
He didn't have the power to deal with them himself, but he could lead those who did.
"All right, I understand," Jean replied with a determined nod. She would do what was needed; she wouldn't let her ego get in the way of saving lives.
"As for you, Scott, you are also going to play the role of a disruptor. Your beams are pure kinetic energy; that won't let you cut their armor open, but it can knock them back, keep them away from us, and with their anti-mutant equipment, that is vital," Steve explained to the team leader.
Again, he wasn't asking Scott to be the main attacker; he was placing him in a support role, something that would be vital to the overall success of the team.
Something that Scott, for all his pride and occasional arrogance, understood and accepted. He had fought the Sentinels before. He knew how dangerous they were. He knew that this was not a battle for individual glory, but a battle for survival, a battle that required teamwork, strategy, and a willingness to put the needs of the many above the desires of the one.
"Right," Scott said, his voice firm, a clear sign of his understanding and acceptance. "I'll keep them off your backs. You just focus on doing what you do best."
Steve gave him a grateful nod, a small gesture that spoke volumes about the respect that had already formed between them. He then turned to Ororo Munroe, the beautiful, regal woman who could command the very forces of nature.
"Storm, I need you to do what you do best. I need you to create a storm, a real one. I need lightning, I need wind, I need rain. I need you to make this place as inhospitable as possible for them."
Ororo, a woman who had seen firsthand the destructive power of the Sentinels, who had felt the chill of their presence, the cold, impersonal hatred they radiated, didn't need to be told twice.
"It will be done," she said, her voice a low, melodic murmur that seemed to carry the promise of the storm she was about to unleash.
She closed her eyes, and the world around her seemed to respond to her will. The wind began to pick up, a gentle breeze at first, then a stronger, more forceful gust. The sky, once a clear, bright blue, began to darken, the clouds gathering, swirling, and coalescing into a vortex of grey and black.
Such a phenomenon couldn't be hidden from the Sentinels; all at once, every Sentinel was made aware of the arriving storm, and just as quickly, it was determined to be the work of Storm.
And all Sentinels knew where she was; they knew a fight was coming, yet they didn't change their target.
Because, in the end, they wanted to kill mutants.
While they might avoid the Knights of the Round Table and simply pass through the lines of Enforcement Knights without slowing down, the same wasn't true when they encountered mutants.
Especially one as high-priority as Storm.
So they continued; in fact, they changed course, moving toward the city of Plymouth.
The Sentinels, a dozen strong, flew toward the city, their massive forms cutting through the increasingly turbulent air. Their weapons were raised, their red eyes glowing with a cold, determined intensity.
They were a sight to behold, a terrifying spectacle of technological might, a symbol of humanity's fear and hatred.
But they were not the only spectacle.
The storm, now a full-blown hurricane, descended upon them, a raging torrent of wind and rain, a symphony of thunder and lightning.
The first bolt of lightning, a jagged spear of pure, incandescent energy, struck the lead Sentinel, its immense power surging through the machine's metallic body.
The Sentinel's systems flickered, its movements becoming jerky and erratic. It was not destroyed, but it was damaged, its armor scorched, its circuits fried.
The second bolt of lightning followed, then a third, a relentless barrage of nature's fury that battered and broke the machines.
The wind, a howling gale that could tear trees from their roots, pushed against the Sentinels, their massive forms struggling to maintain their course.
The rain, a torrential downpour that obscured their vision, made it difficult for them to see, to target, to attack.
Yet the Sentinels weren't about to simply let Storm have her way. Instantly, they deployed measures to counter her.
And while their anti-mutant fields couldn't do anything to the storm itself, they still had plenty of other means.
Small drones, no larger than fists, rose into the air.
They barely managed to resist the strong winds; some didn't.
But they quickly rose into the sky, using the power of science to counter the storm.
Some of them released chemical agents, neutralizing the water in the clouds, the seeds for the next lightning bolt.
Others released more exotic technology: devices that manipulated air pressure, devices that disrupted ionic charges, devices that did a dozen other things, all designed to break the storm.
They were efficient, they were relentless, and they were effective.
The storm, once a raging hurricane, began to weaken, the wind dying down, the rain letting up, the lightning becoming less frequent.
Ororo didn't make it easy for them; after all, this storm wasn't natural, so she could keep it going despite their efforts, but overall, the storm weakened despite her best efforts.
Still, it was enough; after all, the storm was never meant to eliminate the Sentinels on its own.
It was just for support.
On one hand, it forced the Sentinels to expend energy and focus on resisting the winds.
On the other hand, it filled the battlefield with elements.
In particular, wind and water.
Something plenty of other mutants could make use of.
One of whom just so happened to also be part of this team.
Iceman, a young, brash mutant with the power to control moisture, to create ice, to turn a battlefield into a winter wonderland, had been waiting for this very moment.
While he could use the water in the air and within the bodies of his enemies to freeze them, this was so much easier.
With a wave of his hands, the rain falling from the sky suddenly froze, turning into a hail of razor-sharp icicles, a barrage of frozen projectiles that slammed into the Sentinels.
The winds, too, turned freezing, transforming the water on the Sentinels' bodies into ice.
And everyone knew that when water froze, it expanded.
The hail of icy projectiles couldn't do much damage to the powerful armor of the Sentinels, but it could cause a few small scratches.
And when water filled those scratches, then expanded?
Well, that could lead to even greater damage, truly a death by a thousand cuts.
Though once again, the Sentinels were well prepared, their bodies warming up and causing water to turn into steam as soon as it landed on them.
It might cost them a bit of extra energy to resist all of this, but it was not enough to cause them any real harm.
No, the real reason for all of this was simply to force the Sentinels to use as much energy as possible.
Because while they didn't have a battery to drain or a generator to overload, there was a maximum amount of energy they could draw through their network.
Which meant that by forcing them to reach this limit, some of their weapons would become unusable, because plasma weapons required huge amounts of energy.
According to the plan, which was based on data provided by Stark and Reed, the Sentinels were unable to use their plasma weapons and anti-mutant technology simultaneously at this point.
And that gave them a chance to fight back.
(End of chapter)
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